Julie wasn’t afraid of Crackers, so she went outside. “You’re on private property,” she told the geek with the camera.
“What are you going to do about it?” he challenged.
Huh? Her jaw dropped at the rude tone of voice, and he snapped a picture. That made her really mad. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, waving her hand at the camera.
He took another picture.
“Hey, cut that out.” She started to go after him. He took that angry picture too.
“Did you know about your husband and Lydia Dale?” he asked, camera in her face.
Huh? Flash. She blinked.
“They were having an affair, but she wanted to end it, so he shot her.”
“What!” A shriek came out of Julie’s mouth before she even knew she was making a sound. What, Reed shot Lydia? “What?” Her heart was pounding. She could hardly breathe, the words hit her so hard. Reed? Shot Lydia?
“Who are you?” she screamed. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Pat Pride. I tracked your address from the license plate on the truck at the scene of the crime. Sorry to startle you. I just wanted your reaction for the Herald,” he said as if this were an everyday thing for him. “Do you have any comment?”
“Comment? You want me to comment?” She took a step, and her ankle twisted. She fell to her knees, speechless at the request for a comment. This was worse than the sniper, worse than the silence all these months. She gasped for air, and the reporter just stood there. What the freaking Jesus is this? Julie had been around a long time, had heard a lot of stories about girls and boys and the fights they got in. But she’d never heard anything like this. Reed shot Lydia? No way. He wouldn’t have. She didn’t know she was sitting on the ground, tears flowing and shaking her head. Reed loved Lydia more than anyone in the world.
“Hey, I’m sorry. Want a cup of coffee? I didn’t mean to shock you.”
This brought Julie back. Everything inside her that had gone limp started tightening up again. He didn’t want to startle her? She was back on her feet, going for him. “You’re with the who?”
“The Herald.”
“How do you know this?” she demanded.
“I heard it on the police radio. I went out there to the scene, boat ramp in Paradise.” He backed away as her face screwed up with puzzlement.
“Paradise?”
He nodded. “I saw them. They were both dead. Looks like he killed her and then shot himself. I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “Do you have any comment for me now?”
“Hell no, you son of a bitch.” She went into the house, slammed the door, and called Paradise Police.
ALFIE GOT DOWN to North Port a little more than an hour later. The picture of what had gone down the night before was still clear as mud. He had a lot of questions and no answers. All they knew was that Lydia hadn’t come home from work the night before; her mail from yesterday was still in the box. They had a BOLO out for her car and a name for the registered owner of the truck but no definite ID on the shooter. He rang the doorbell.
“Alfred Rose, Paradise Police,” Alfie said, showing his badge. “Can I come in?”
The door opened slowly. Julie Lustfield had soft pale hair down to her shoulders that should have been mousy but somehow wasn’t, stunned gray eyes, and jeans that showed off a good figure. No hint of a smile, but no fear either. “I’m Julie Lustfield. Is it him?” she said faintly.
“Mrs. Lustfield, when was the last time you talked to your husband?”
“He went fishing this morning,” she said.
“What time?”
“He left before six, about five forty-five.” Her serious eyes held that stunned look of people in denial. He can’t be dead, I just saw him a few hours ago. “I saw him load up the truck. Just tell me, is it him?”
“Does your husband have a gun?”
Her eyes skittered around. “Yes. Some rifles. I think there’s one in the truck.”
“How about handguns?”
She shook her head. “He just uses them for hunting.”
“What does he hunt?”
She shook her head again. “He got a coral snake once, right out here. For God’s sake, tell me. Is it him?”
“He didn’t have a wallet on him. And his face is pretty messed up. We’re still checking.” It sounded so lame that he couldn’t tell her for sure one way or the other.
They stood there in the doorway. Her eyes filled with tears. “That reporter said he killed Lydia and himself. I don’t think it’s possible.”
“You want to sit down and tell me about it?” Alfie said.
“They knew each other since birth,” she said disparagingly. “We only met in high school.”
“Uh-huh.” Alfie wasn’t sure what that had to do with it. “Were they seeing each other?”
“Well, sure, they saw each other every day. She was the bookkeeper. They were on the phone all the time.”
“I mean, did they have a personal relationship?”
“They had a very serious personal relationship.” Her lips twitched in a tiny smile.
“A physical relationship?”
“Yes. She was his sister. Well, stepsister, not blood. Reed wouldn’t kill anybody, but he certainly wouldn’t kill kin.”
“Oh,” Alfie said. Sometimes they can surprise you. Okay, the rifle had not been discovered in the truck, but maybe Reed had a handgun his wife didn’t know about.
“Mrs. Lustfield, do you know any reason why your husband might kill either his sister or himself?”
She shook her head, then her shoulders lifted just a little.
“What was that thought?” Alfie asked.
“I don’t know. He hasn’t exactly been confiding in me lately.”
“You’ve been having problems?”
“I wouldn’t call it ‘problems.’ He just hasn’t been here much. He came in late last night, left early this morning. I knew he and Lyd hung out a lot. But… lovers? They wouldn’t do that.” The words had a hollow ring.
Alfie sneezed. You never knew. He asked her for a photo of her husband. She got up suddenly and went into the other room. When she came back, she had a new expression on her face, his wallet in her hand, and a photo of him and her on a fishing boat. Alfie studied the likeness in the snapshot first. The man in the photo had the same blond hair, same sort of build as the dead man, but to Alfie the wallet seemed to clinch it.
“He leave his wallet home often?” Alfie asked.
Julie shook her head. “This is the first time.” Then she held out something else, her husband’s cell phone. Alfie’s intake of breath came at the same time her face cracked wide open. “He wouldn’t go out on the water without his cell.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Alfie frowned but not at what the husband did. Julie was the kind of heartbreaker he went for. No one could tell him why. He didn’t know. Similar to Sharon, Jeff’s mother. Both girls about his age, down on their emotional luck, with things getting worse and worse, and they hadn’t a clue how to dig out. Julie’s plight tugged at him so much, he felt a sneeze coming on. Husband was a cheat, but she loved him anyway. And shit, nobody wanted to lose a husband to a homicide-suicide. He flashed back to Pride coming here this morning to get her reaction. Held back the sneeze of rage at that cowardly act.
“Do you have a family member or a friend who can come and stay with you?” Alfie murmured.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” she said.
“You could confirm that by identifying the body. We need a family member.”